Under the cover of night, a convoy silently entered Liangzhou City, passing unhindered through the heavily guarded gates despite the strict curfew. The gates of Qingliang Mountain swung open in grand ceremony, a gesture reserved only for monarchs and high-ranking officials, as the Northern Liang Prince’s Mansion welcomed its distinguished guests with unprecedented pomp.
Three carriages rolled in. The first carried the white-robed monk and his family of three, along with the young monk from the south and north. The second carriage bore Bai Yu, the White Lotus Scholar of Longhu Mountain, accompanied by Han Guiqingxin and his disciple from Wudang Mountain’s Qing Shan Temple. The last carriage held the delegation from Shangyin Academy, including Chang Sui and Xu Huang.
Awaiting them at Qingliang Mountain was Xu Weixiong, leading a sizable welcoming party. Behind Song Dongming, the Deputy Administrator of the Northern Liang Circuit, stood a group of curious aides and officials. Song Dongming’s official residence, perched halfway up the mountain, was now hailed as the “Dragon Gate of Northern Liang,” while Xu Fengnian’s residence, the Wutong Courtyard, was dubbed the “Phoenix Pavilion”—a testament to Song Dongming’s transcendent status in Northern Liang’s political landscape.
Among the returning visitors were only Li Dongxi and the young monk Nanbei. With sharp eyes, Li Dongxi spotted the mansion’s steward, Song Yu, and dashed over to greet him warmly. The usually stern-faced Song Yu, whom Liangzhou officials privately called the “Grim Reaper,” broke into an uncharacteristic smile—albeit a slightly stiff one—and promised to personally accompany her to the cosmetics shops the next day, much to the girl’s delight. Lu Chengyan and Wang Chudong, as prospective princesses, refrained from appearing publicly, as it would have been improper for them to greet guests.
After exchanging pleasantries with the white-robed monk and Bai Yu, Xu Weixiong approached Chang Sui, who shook his empty gourd and quipped, “Green Ant Wine—no more, no less, one gourd a day. Surely your household can spare that, junior sister?” Xu Weixiong nodded, warning him not to drink by the lakeside at night lest he fall in and become fish food.
Jin Baoshi, her eyes red, tearfully called out, “Senior Sister!” Xu Weixiong smiled gently, teasing her about matchmaking and praising the rugged men of Northern Liang—men who rode the finest horses, wielded the sharpest blades, drank the fiercest liquor, and slew the barbarians of the Northern Wasteland. Jin Baoshi, clinging to her hand, laughed, “You’re not even married yet, Senior Sister. Why should I rush?”
Xu Weixiong then greeted Xu Huang, Sima Can, and Liu Duanmao with simple acknowledgments—senior brother, junior brother—before turning her attention to the gathering.
The white-robed monk stood beside his wife, observing Bai Yu and Song Dongming—two of the most esteemed scholars in the Liyang Dynasty—hitting it off. Yet, recalling the secretive discussions about the Zhao Gou leader on Wudang Mountain, he sighed softly and wandered off to admire the mansion’s scenery. Rumors once claimed the Xu family had grown obscenely wealthy by exploiting the people of Northern Liang, but the reality was far more complex.
Soon, aides from the “Dragon Gate” approached the monk, introducing themselves respectfully. The monk responded with polite nods, and the officials, well-versed in courtly decorum, didn’t dare overstep. They also paid their respects to Han Guiqingxin, the rising star of Wudang Mountain, seeking his wisdom on Daoist longevity techniques.
While the monk and his wife were escorted to their quarters by Steward Song Yu, Li Dongxi and Nanbei wandered off, greeted warmly by the mansion’s maids. Bai Yu, Chang Sui, and the others followed Xu Weixiong and Song Dongming to the unique official residence halfway up the mountain—a cluster of modest courtyards housing the deputy administrator and his staff. The officials dispersed to their duties, leaving the core group to discuss urgent matters.
In the final meeting, Xu Weixiong cut to the chase: “As Bai Yu predicted, the western front is dire. The Prince has personally gone to Liuzhou, and all cavalry in Liangzhou has been mobilized. However, only a fraction can reach the border in time. Meanwhile, Wang Sui has taken two cities with 50,000 cavalry, aiming to crush half of Youzhou.”
Xu Huang asked if Youzhou’s defenses could hold. Xu Weixiong grimaced, explaining that the reckless decisions of two key leaders had left critical positions vulnerable. The situation was precarious: if Liuzhou fell or Huaiguang Pass was lost, Northern Liang would face disaster.
Xu Weixiong stressed that victory hinged on three critical fronts: Liuzhou, Huaiguang Pass, and the encirclement in Hulu Pass. Failure in any would spell doom for Northern Liang’s gamble.
Chang Sui, ever the cynic, joked about finding an escape route if the odds were only fifty-fifty. Xu Weixiong flipped her hand, doubling the estimate, and quipped that Northern Liang’s elite forces—half of her father’s lifelong savings—would prevail. Chang Sui, half-serious, offered to lead a heavy cavalry unit if he could quit drinking. Xu Weixiong coldly dismissed the idea.
Xu Huang then raised concerns about the Northern Wasteland’s newly forged heavy cavalry, one of which was already heading to Liuzhou. The room fell silent. Jin Baoshi asked if Liangzhou’s reinforcements could still turn the tide. Xu Weixiong sighed, “We can only do our best and leave the rest to fate.”
Yet, inexplicably, she smiled, her spirits undimmed. “But if a certain someone were here, he’d say, ‘Losing is better than surrendering. Whether we can win—we’ll only know by fighting!'”
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On four fronts—Liangzhou’s Tiger Head City, Hulu Pass, Liuzhou’s Qingcang City, and Youzhou’s eastern border—Northern Liang was at war.
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